Slytherin Stake, Gryffindor Guile
by Remarkable1
Summary: Severus and Lucius try to pull one over on Hermione, but she turns the tables.


"Your rather maudlin efforts to involve me in this farce you call a Ministry gala have failed, Lucius. I'm leaving." The overdressed, imposing figurehead of Potions Ltd. stood to leave.

"Now Severus, I can't have the heads of my investment companies leaving these distinguished events. What kind of impression would that give the Ministry?" Lucius Malfoy rather roughly dragged Severus Snape back down into his seat. He was lucky they had a vantage point off to the side of the garish hall, where eyes were minimal, and press was non-existent. It suited him just fine. As a lifelong Slytherin, he was able to observe without being observed.

A long-suffering sigh escaped the lips of his companion. "If you were any other man, I would hex that golden mane from your scalp and place it on your crotch."

Lucius let an appreciative chuckle escape his pale lips. "Surely, even you understand the importance of my investment contacts showing support to the financial advisor of half the Wizengamot and board of governors?"

"If your social standing didn't affect my bottom line, I would have left long ago." Snape scowled characteristically, picking at the last of the petrified dessert on his plate. "Why must Shacklebolt drone on so? He's been hogging the podium for a bloody hour!"

"Patience, my friend. There is more entertainment to come."

"Surely you jest! You know damn well I have no interest in dancing with powdered tarts that care more for my pocketbook and cock size than intellect or wit."

"You must be seen to play the game. The rules never change, only the faces," Lucius murmured, his eyes scanning the crowd.

"I'd have more fun watching grass grow. I can hardly imagine a more wasteful five hours of my life. I think I just felt a few brain cells scream in horror and die just now."

"It's a shame you didn't bring a date."

"I hardly see the point in pretending to pander to some fluffed-up, brainless half-wit."

"At least you could have had some entertainment at the end of the evening."

"At what price? That's all I need, a witch thinking I'm taking an interest in her. No, thank you. I'll stick to my usual routine."

Lucius snorted down a guffaw. "Honestly, Severus! When is the last time you had a woman?"

"Would you keep your fucking voice down? It's not like I care to shag a stretched-out, overpaid whore!"

"You're entirely too conservative with your talents," came the velvet reply, the blonde raking his eyes over his companion.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "This is hardly the time."

"Pity," Lucius flipped dismissively. "I think I may have found tonight's entertainment, and it's a shame you'll miss all the fun."

"What are you getting at, Malfoy?"

Severus followed his boss's gaze to a witch sitting two tables over by herself, seemingly as bored and alone as the two of them. The attempts of a good-looking wizard across from her to engage in conversation, earned him an absent nod before she drained her glass and rose from the table.

"Who is that?" he wondered. She was a very lovely looking woman, all curves and class. Her long, wavy hair fell down to mid-back, long tendrils curling over her shoulder and resting lightly above her demurely-draped bosoms. Without meaning to, a low whistle escaped his lips.

"Caught your fancy?" sneered his friend. "I thought you might be interested."

"Do you know her? "

"Yes, she happens to be a prominent researcher within the Ministry; a magical genius in the use of Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, and ancient translations. I wouldn't be surprised to see her in the Minister's spot herself, one day."

"The wizarding world will never accept a woman as Minister," he snorted, but his eyes followed the witch as she crossed the hall and disappeared into the loo.

"Well, are you going to tell me who she is?"

"Really, Severus, you really are quite dense. Don't you keep up on anything in social circles?"

"What uses have I for the pomp and circumstance of the elite? I am quite happy in my laboratory or library. Are you going to tell me or not?" Snape was extremely annoyed with the pretense. Lucius always managed to drag out the inevitable conclusion of every encounter.

"If I tell you who she is, will you accept a little wager?"

"Oh, no. Not another one of your schemes."

"Come now. You look ready to drop into your wine glass. A little fun is warranted to liven up the night."

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" mocked Severus, but his interest was piqued. He couldn't show too much of it, lest he drop the mask of indifference plastered on his face.

"You were always the spoilsport, Severus, but all right." Lucius leaned in conspiratorially. "That witch, my friend, is Hermione Granger."

Severus had just taken an unusually large swig of his fine French wine, and it now adorned the side of the stage and the once-pristine silk tablecloth. He sputtered in great choking gasps, his windpipe and lungs working a- synchronically for several long moments while his friend pounded on his back. A few concerned heads turned their way at the commotion, but Lucius raised his hand to indicate control of the situation.

"Way to not draw attention to yourself. You are lucky Granger was still in the loo, or the gig would have been up before it started."

"You could have warned me before I took a drink," choked out Severus, still coughing and snorting to rid his nasal passages of the offending liquid.

"I did warn you. It's not my fault you are locked away like a hermit, and have no working knowledge of privileged society."

"Oh, well done. To insinuate Granger is part of privileged society is like saying Neville Longbottom is the next Potions master extraordinaire."

"Neville Longbottom is up for promotion for Undersecretary to Shacklebolt."

In twice in as many moments, the last of the wine was sprayed across the table, but this time, no choking was forthcoming.

"You really must learn to control your liquor, my friend. It will not do to spit all over our intended target."

"Evanesco," Snape whispered, pushing away from the table. "I've had enough of this farce. I bid you good night, my foolish friend."

"Wait!" Lucius hissed, following the rapidly disappearing form of his colleague to the entrance of the hall.

"I've had enough of your nonsense. None of your entertainment plans are ever palatable. I should have known better than to accompany you here."

"I'll cut your funding," Lucius smirked. Two could play this game. A wide smile stole into the face of the tall blonde wizard as his friend stopped dead in his tracks, turning a deadly gaze onto his person.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, wouldn't I? I hear there is another up-and-coming Potions entrepreneur that would jump at the chance to have the richest investor in the British Isles banging down her door."

"Banging her is more like it," muttered Snape.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Ah. Well then, I suppose you'll hear me out?"

"Do I have a choice?" inquired the resigned voice of the Potions master.

"There is always a choice."

"Not where you are concerned."

"See? Money can buy happiness." Pleased he had effectively corralled his recluse of a friend, the pair made their way to a shadowed corner of the room farthest from Granger's table. She had resumed her seat, clapping appreciatively to the conclusion of Shacklebolt's speech. The dance was about to start, and she was rising to leave, draping a flattering shawl over her shoulders, clutching a small handbag to her chest.

"What is your wager?"

"See which one of us can charm Granger into bed."

"You've got to be joking. She's the ice queen extraordinaire. Everyone knows she won't put out without a ring on her finger. You saw how she treated Weasley last year when he had the nerve to proposition her in front of the entire Ministry gala."

"Everyone has their price."

"I suppose you are about to tell me what I win, before I reconsider my decision to continue with this foolish venture."

"If you bed her, I will double your funding, and release control of all patents and marketing rights to you, in perpetuity." Severus's sharp intake of breath indicated he had hit a soft spot with the glacial fiend.

"And if you win?"

"If I win, you will share my bed for the next year, with whomever else I procure to grace its silken spread."

"And if neither of us succeeds?"

"Then life goes on."

It was a calculated risk worthy of any Slytherin. It had been years since he'd taken up such a proposal, and the lure of the hunt was made all the more sweet because it wasn't made under duress. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't shared women with Lucius before. He wasn't adverse to a little spice, if it furthered his research or pleasure substantially. An added bonus was the intriguing thought of stripping the over-achieving Gryffindor of her intellectual mantel, possibly reducing her to a quivering mess of nerves under his touch.

"I accept."

"May the best man win."

"Indeed."

Before Severus had finished speaking, Lucius's long strides had eaten up the short distance to the main entrance of the ballroom. He smoothly positioned himself in front of Granger before she had a chance to leave. She bumped right into him, as her head was focused on digging in her clutch.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Malfoy, I didn't see you there!" The flustered girl backed off a step, making to scoot around him.

Lucius smoothly intercepted her again, placing a graceful hand on her arm. "Leaving so soon, Miss Granger?" he asked drolly, quirking an eyebrow. She looked ill at ease. Good.

"I, um, yes. I was on my way home. I don't really care much for these sorts of occasions. It's not much fun without a date."

"I'm surprised a beautiful, intelligent young woman such as you, would suffer from lack of company." A well-placed hand in the small of her back gently escorted her back to the dance floor.

_iSmooth talker,/i _Snape admired, leaning back against the wall to assess his competition.

"Mr Malfoy, I really must be going. I have a long day tomorrow at the office – "

"It's a bank holiday, dear."

_iDamn, there goes that excuse./i_ "Is there something you wish to speak with me about?"

"Why, yes, I would like to fill you in on the details of the financial advisory meeting, specifically, the ones that are affected by the product of your research, and the grants that rest upon those results."

"Oh!" she exclaimed quickly. "Well, you do understand research takes time, and many of my calculations are entirely experimental. It could take years to work out the details of my theories. Many of my findings have been very profitable so far."

"Quite right, my dear." Lucius was peeling the shawl from her shoulders, prying the clutch from her grip.

"May I have this dance?"

"Uh, what? Yes, of course." How did she get talked into dancing with Malfoy? He barely gave her the time of day when she encountered him at the Ministry. If it wasn't for Neville, Lucius would have scrapped her research long ago, if it hadn't of brought in some tidy profits the past few years. "Is there a problem with my results?"

"Not at all." He smoothly swept her out onto the dance floor, one hand on her waist, the other with her small hand in his own. "Maybe I simply desire to put a smile on the face of a lovely young lady."

Hermione blushed, feeling very self-conscious in that moment. She never considered herself to be beautiful in the way men seemed to see her. It was true, she had no small amount of offers for dates, and she just didn't feel they actually wanted any more from her than to be an arm dangle, or a one night stand. It was frustrating to be the brightest witch of the modern age and have very few intellectual equals, those few being twenty years older than her, and obviously not interested in being saddled with a family or commitment.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me all evening."

"It won't be the last, if I have my way."

Was Lucius Malfoy i_flirting/i _with her? It had to be her imagination.

_iGods, she smells good!/i_ Lucius subtly gazed down into her eyes, allowing his peripheral vision to take in the creamy smoothness of her skin, the flush of her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, and the plump curves disappearing into the demure, low-cut bodice, obscured with wispy lace.

"You were going to tell me about the financial advisory meeting?"

"Yes, so I was." Pulling back from his temporary reverie, he continued with the false pretense of conversation. "The board suggested cutting your funding."

"What?" She stopped dead in her tracks, nearly stepping on his foot. "Oh, I'm sorry! You just caught me off guard. Why would they suggest such a thing? I've brought in more revenue for the Ministry with my research, than all the other departments combined this year alone!"

"Don't worry, my dear, I took care of it. There is a bit of perceived emasculation on the part of the older board members. They take an up-and-coming genius, in four prominent research fields, as a threat to their public image. Someone might get the idea you wish to try and overturn generations of protocol and run for Minister." He smiled when her lips tightened with outrage. His seduction was going as planned.

"Of course, I told them it was utter codswollup to entertain such eighteenth century notions. The wizarding community is becoming increasingly progressive. Brilliance is needed to keep today's youth sharp, and our economy cutting edge."

"I find the attitudes of the elite go to the highest bidder."

Damn. She was smarter than he gave her credit for.

"Be that as it may," he transitioned smoothly, "your research has been indispensable to the Ministry, a point I made very clearly."

"So, you made that point with your sincere interest in the feminine underdog and her research in mind, or your pocketbook, Mr. Malfoy?"

This had taken a slight turn for the worse. He cursed himself for all the times he had brushed her off at Ministry luncheons. It was time for a different tack.

"My dear, you mistake my intentions as having an ulterior motive. I merely wish to convey my gratitude in regard to your contributions, and assure you no such interruptions to your research projects or funding will be tolerated."

"How very charitable of you, Mr. Malfoy, but I assure you, I can quite take care of myself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going."

With that declaration, she neatly extricated herself from his grasp just as the first number ended, leaving him alone and stunned in the mix of bodies that clapped to the conclusion of the song.

"What's this? A Malfoy losing his golden touch? Please, allow me to show you how to give a woman of extreme intelligence the respect she deserves." A smirking Severus shoved him slightly, as he jogged a few steps to catch up with the perturbed Hermione.

"Miss Granger."

"What!" she whirled, eyes flashing, mouth snapping. "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I just, well, was leaving. If you'll excuse me."

"Miss Granger, I couldn't help but see Lucius Malfoy making an ass of himself on the dance floor. I would be remiss if I didn't extend an apology on his behalf, and ask for the honor of this dance. Not out of pity," he added quickly, seeing a retort rise to her lips and die at his added comment. "I merely desire the simple pleasure of your company. It is a rare chance I allow myself to be dragged to these sordid events, and even more occasional to converse with someone of equal intellect." Her smile brought a flash of victory to his lips and a strange sense of emotion to spark in his chest, but it passed too quickly for him to analyze what might have been.

Severus had always been cool and detached in public around her, but then, he was that way with everyone. It made sense he was just lonely and might crave some company for the evening, seeing as how he was a victim of professional obligation as much as she was. She took his hand. "I would love to dance with you, Professor."

"Please, we're colleagues. If you don't mind the presumption, I'd like it if we could begin on a first name basis."

"I would be honored, Severus."

Snape shot a victorious sneer in Malfoy's direction over Hermione's shoulder, noting the dangerous narrowing of his eyes at the side of the dance floor.

The couple whirled to the quick beat of the dance number, swirling in and out of the crush of bodies, heat rising to produce a light sheen of sweat over every inch of bared skin in the vicinity. Severus figured Malfoy's problem was that he talked too much, and usually managed to bait himself into an unpleasant corner. Women were finicky, and it didn't take much to set them off. A brilliant, temperamental Gryffindor such as Hermione needed a gentle touch, not Slytherin guile. He was sure she would see right through any insincere tactics. He had to play his cards right. Any mistake would be detrimental to the outcome of the wager.

He allowed himself to maintain eye contact with her, obsidian diamonds boring into her sparkling brown ones. She was an excellent dancer. He would never have imagined she spent much time learning, but was amused to find himself truly enjoying her company in this public manner. He made sure not to make any premature moves. The evening was young, and any slip of the hand from his strict position on her waist and hand might be interpreted as an advance. It was best to let her make the first move.

Hermione was feeling a bit dizzy. This wasn't how she had imagined her evening was going to be, but it had been a long time since she had danced with anyone, and she had always enjoyed having a competent dance partner. She was just a bit old-fashioned in that one area, yearning for the romanticism of a man asking her to dance. Thus, she hadn't had too many offers, maybe due to other men feeling intimidated by her. Snape wasn't the first man she would have chosen to dance with, but he was a far sight improved, compared to the likes of Malfoy.

Their danced ended with a flourish, and the couple turned to clap. Snape gave her an out, inclining his head to a nearby table. "Do you need to rest, or would you care to…?" He let the question hang, unspoken between them, as his gaze wandered back to the dance floor before meeting her own.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to dance with her again? What was this? Then, behind him, she observed Malfoy making a beeline toward where they stood. "If you don't mind, I'd love another dance!"

He was surprised when she pulled him purposefully back into the throng of pressing couples, the next song being a slow one. Snape caught sight of Malfoy muttering to himself, as he tried to appear to be casually crossing the dance floor, before flinging himself into a chair near where he had previously been standing. Interesting. Had she seen Malfoy? Was that why he had been graced with another dance? Things were looking up.

Snape pulled her closer, gently placing her hands on his shoulders while his elegant figures closed about her waist, carefully but firmly. Upon closer inspection, she really was lovely in her own way. Beads of sweat clung to her brow, slowly running down either temple, and blending with the tendrils of hair that had escaped their tether. A few lone curls were plastered to her neck, emphasizing the pulse point that was rapidly fluttering, despite their slow cadence. The rise and fall of her chest indicated a state of arousal that was indicative of more than just dancing. He was turning her on.

iW_hat am I doing? Getting turned on by Snape? Get a grip, Granger. He's old enough to be your father!/i_ The little prude on her one shoulder, the one that kept her out of trouble, her feet on the ground, and head in her research, was starting to get annoying. She was tired of listening to the good girl inside. There was no conceivable recognition or satisfaction in always playing the goody-two-shoes. It was an unhappy, lonely way to pass her time. Despite the great deal of pleasure and fierce love she had for the work she did, Hermione longed to have someone to share it with. Maybe there could be a mutual attraction with someone older and more experienced than herself. Maybe it was someone with contacts, money, a great body, a keen intellect. Someone like… Snape? i_I wonder if he'd be interested in me that way_,/i she mused. i_To hell with it/i._ She decided to give it her best shot. He had already shown an interest in her. It couldn't hurt to see how far she could take it. What did she have to lose?

Snape was surprised when Hermione hesitantly closed the space between their bodies and took her arms off his shoulders, reaching under his arms and around his back instead to clasp them together, just above his posterior. i_Oh, really?/i_ This might be easier than he thought it was going to be. Taking her cue, one his hands travelled from her waist to settle around her back, caressing the bare skin there gently, while the other moved to cradle her head that had been placed oh-so-strategically on his chest.

They swayed to the music, rocking back and forth in a barely-concealed effort at dancing. It was a heady, comforting embrace. Loneliness made strange bedfellows. Maybe it wasn't so strange for two people to be drawn together for physical comfort in a cold world.

Snape could feel the burning glare of Malfoy, even though his eyes were closed.i _Eat your heart out, Malfoy!/i_ The man might have money, but he had no class.

The feel of Snape's hand tracing light circles on her bare skin brought shivers down her spine. A warm glow had started low in her belly. Hermione was no prude, but there weren't many times she had been blessed with the proximity of such a stimulating intellect and body in the same package. It made the low burn between her thighs a delicious torture. They had only had two dances, and her panties were soaked.

Severus flared his nostrils, the scent of her arousal wafting between them to ensnare his already-raging libido. Gods, this witch turned him on. He would hardly have thought it possible at the start of the night. Maybe it was her reaction to him. Whatever the reason, he could tell her secretions had soaked her knickers. He bet, if a well-timed finger were to find its way under that demure dress of hers, it was bound to find a wet and ready cunt, open for a good pounding. The thought sent his mind reeling. The other obvious reaction was a raging erection that was impossible to hide from the woman pressed so tightly against him.

_iOh my gods, he's got an erection! Do I really excite him that much?/i_ A million thoughts a minute swirled through her head and exited just as quickly. Was this really happening? This sudden, irrevocable train wreck of attraction between her and Snape? He wasn't making any overt moves. Maybe he was waiting for her permission. She decided to give it to him by slipping one hand under his robes and pressing it against his hard-on.

Severus stiffened when he felt her small hand on his prick. This was not what he was expecting. Usually, he was the one in control, doing the seducing. It was hard to believe she was taking the initiative by being so bold as to grab him in public. Granted, the robes obscured public view, but the effect was the same. If he didn't get her off the dance floor, there was going to be an embarrassing mess in his trousers.

Lanky black hair tickled her face as he dipped to whisper to her. His voice was silk on chocolate, pouring into her mind through a haze of lust. "Shall we find somewhere more private to continue this audience?"

Hermione nodded her assent, her nose filled with unnamed masculine scents that made her feel like she was floating.

Just as they were about to leave, Lucius Malfoy intervened rudely. "I see you've won the bet, Severus."

_iDamn Malfoy!/i_ Snape gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to hex the bollocks off the evil prick in front of him. i_That smug bastard./i_ He should have figured as much. If Malfoy couldn't get the girl, then he was going to ruin it for him. i_Fucker./i_

"Bet? What are you talking about? We were just about to leave, Mr. Malfoy. Surely, your business wagers can wait until after the bank holiday."

"Oh no, I'm afraid this cannot wait. Severus will want to collect on it immediately, I am sure."

Hermione looked from one man to the other. Malfoy had a smug quirk on his lips. Severus looked like he was ready to kill the tall blonde. A bloom of doubt fluttered in her chest. What was going on?

"Severus?" she asked, squeezing his arm in supplication. "Is there something I should know about?"

"Not at all. Lucius merely enjoys meddling in the affairs of others. As you can see, Malfoy, the young lady and I were about to continue our acquaintance in a more i_private/i_ venue."

"Oh, I wouldn't imagine interfering with the object of your iconquest./i By all means. We can settle up on Monday. Good night, Miss Granger." A fling of golden hair saw the back of Lucius Malfoy head over to a few of Shacklebolt's cronies.

"What was he on about, Severus?" she asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he murmured, ushering her out into the cool night before Lucius had a chance to do any more damage.

Once outside, Severus could see the cogs turning in that troublesome mind of hers. The frown was deepening, her hand beginning to pull away from his.

"I want to know what he was talking about. Did you two have some sort of bet going on me? Is that why you both asked me to dance? I saw you two sitting together earlier, you know. I'm not blind. Then he mentioned I was your conquest. Is that what I am? Some sick Slytherin entertainment for the night? I will not be made a fool of!" Her voice had become shrill, the volume rising as her anger took over with the realization she was nothing more than a trophy of the flesh.

"And to think I was attracted to you! What was I thinking? God, it makes me sick to think I was going to let you take me to bed!" It was all too much. Her mother was right. If something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. She sank to the ground, not intending to sob right there on the steps of the Ministry itself, but unable to contain the tears that had been building for the past two years.

Severus was dumbstruck. He honestly didn't know what to do with a whinging female. He had always blown off that responsibility as a professor, and while he kept the title, as he subbed from time to time, he was no closer to playing nursemaid or counselor than he had been during his tenure at Hogwarts. This time, he felt genuinely guilty for hurting this young woman. She hadn't deserved what they had done to her, and he knew he did deserve whatever he got from her. For what it was worth, he sat next to her and put both arms around her to try and salvage what was left of the moment.

"Hermoine, it is I who must apologize. I admit that was the original intent of the evening, but once I held you in my arms on the dance floor, I realized there was something between us that was so much more than petty, immature motives."

She continued to sob, not caring what he said or how he felt. She felt desolate, empty inside at having been the butt of such a public and cruel joke. They were starting to draw a few stares from folks going in and out of the building, but she didn't care. If he wanted to stay, he could just as well be as uncomfortable as he had made her feel.

"I always respected you, Professor. It's been my dream, to one day apprentice with you, to gain a better understanding of the parts of my research that deal with modifying and purifying potions. I can't believe you'd do something so humiliating. I knew Malfoy was a prat, but my image of you has been shattered. I always looked up to you. How could you?"

In typical female fashion, she beat at his chest with her small fists. In the next moment, her wand was in her hand and pressed into his neck. "I should hex you into next week, Severus Snape! What a horrible thing to do, playing with my emotions like that!"

"I deserve whatever you choose to mete out. I was a brainless git, and for that, I apologize. I will not trouble you again." He turned to leave, his heart weighing heavy at losing any chance he may have had with her.

"I didn't say you could leave!"

He stopped and turned, unable to comprehend why she wouldn't want him to.

"How dare you assume you can just walk away from me like that? If you're so bloody sorry, prove it!"

Three seconds later, he had a furious, passionate witch in his embrace, her lips desperately bruising his own with the intensity of an angry kiss. With a crack, she Apparated them back to her flat.

Snape opened his eyes to Hermione Granger's bedroom. He pulled away from her enough to ask, "What are we doing here? I thought you were mad at me."

"I iam/i mad at you! Now, take off your clothes!"

All he could do was comply, as her wand continued to be pointed in his general direction. It was like watching a gentle creature turn into a savage, wild lunatic. Her hair had come undone, and the ends were sticking out in a myriad of directions. Her dress had somehow torn, exposing a bit of thigh. The fact she was unaware of her own state of dishevel brought that sharp jolt of pleasure back to his groin. She was magnificent.

"Take them off inow!/i"

He did. Every last stitch hit the floor in record time.

"Take off your boxers."

He slowly slid them to the floor, suddenly, completely naked in front of an enraged witch. He was fucked, in whatever sense of the word that meaning entailed.

Now, it was Hermione's turn to smirk. If he wanted to play games, she could teach him a thing or two.

"Onto the bed, lover boy."

_iWell, this ought to be interesting./i_

He lay flat on her king-sized bed, long legs stretched to the very edge. His very prominent manhood stood at attention above his groin, bobbing in the air for all to see. He shivered when she licked her lips and advanced on him. The wand was tossed onto the bedside table.

"You are not allowed to touch me until I give you permission."

He nodded.

"You will say 'Yes, ma'am', or 'Yes, Hermione', when I tell you to do something. If you're a really good boy, I might let you fuck my wet cunt."

Holy Mother of Merlin. She was kinky,_ iand/i_ she had a dirty mouth. If he was in the afterlife, he never wanted to leave.

A sharp hiss issued from his mouth, as she wasted no time in settling those pink lips over the head of his throbbing prick. A cool hand massaged his sac, while the other gripped the shaft of his member.

"I hope you can come more than once, Severus. I intend to use you most thoroughly."

"Yes, Hermione," he whispered, already straining to hold back the tightening that was threatening to make him spurt prematurely into that devilish mouth of hers.

"You are not allowed to come yet."

"Yes, ma'am," he grated, willing himself to think of Umbridge, McGonagall, anything but that sweet torture on his privates. It was useless. There was simply too much pressure and sensation going on at once for him to hold back.

"Hermione!" he gasped, frantic to get her permission to come, lest the evening end early.

She could tell there was no stopping his lust from overwhelming him. With a gentle squeeze on his balls, she encouraged him when she slipped her entire mouth over his prick, giving him a wink and a nod.

"Oh, Gods, Hermione!" A sharp cry elicited from his dry throat, torn from the depths of his chest as the orgasm ripped him to pieces and flowed freely into her succulent mouth. The sight of her sucking every last drop from him prolonged the orgasm, causing him to grunt out one last moan, before he collapsed in a mess of nerves on her pillows. And he thought i_she/i_ was the one that was going to be a mess? Boy, he surely had underestimated her!

After she had licked the last pearly white trails from the head of his soft prick, she left to another part of her home, and came back with a pitcher of water and ice.

After they both had had a cool drink, she took an ice cube, giving him a feral grin.

"I don't think I like that look on your face," he frowned, unsure of her intent.

"I didn't give you permission to speak, did I?" she paused, poised with the ice cube over his bare chest. She hadn't undressed yet, but the smell of her arousal was, once again, unmistakable.

"No, ma'am," he whispered, flinching visibly when the ice cube was lowered to his chest, making contact with the heated surface.

Hermione was enjoying the disconcerted look on his face. She doubted there were very few women, if any, who had been privy to being allowed to keep this formidable man off-balance. She was very much enjoying this newfound confidence.

She ran the ice cube 'round the nipples on his chest, following the trail with her pink tongue, laving the peaks that hardened beneath her fiery touch. He gave little gasps every so often, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, rising off the bed before forcing themselves down again, as if remembering anew their forced command to not touch her.

Hermione brought the ice cube up to his mouth, graciously allowing him to suckle the drips from the tip of the cube. His efforts to not come into contact with her skin were rewarded by her hungry mouth finding his own once again. Their tongues tangled in a desperate dance of seduction.

Ice cube forgotten, Hermione impatiently took her wand and magicked off her clothing. He was hard again, and the fire in her pussy needed quenching.

"Let me ride you," she breathed against his ear, straddling him while bringing the straining erection to her nether lips.

The imposter who claimed to be Hermione Granger was above him, poised to thrust herself down onto his sensitive prick. He couldn't believe this was the same woman whose hand was insistently thrust into the air a mere seven years before, annoying the shite out of him every time she flounced into his classroom. Those days seemed so far removed from the sex goddess above him who was nowi – _OH! –/i _impaling herself onto his cock.

She, still, was not allowing him to touch her. It was driving him mad. But wasn't that part of the punishment for him betting on her with Lucius? He deserved it. He had been a foul bastard. What a punishment, though. If all of her punishments were like this, he would never let her go. A possessive streak of jealously flashed through him at the thought of any other man seeing her like this, having her ride anyone other than him. He fought the urge to flip her onto her back and pound his ownership of her body into her. In the moment the lusty witch above him cried out her release, he knew he wanted her in all ways, not just this one. Why it had never occurred to him before now, he was unsure, but it had been there all along in front of his eyes. He had just been too blind to see it.

The milking of her orgasmic contractions brought him close to release, but he wasn't through with her. "Let me touch you," he begged. "Please, Hermione, I need to touch you. Please, let me make love to you. Let me pleasure you. I'm begging you, please, Hermione. I promise, I'll be a good boy."

A winning smile was his reward. Yes, he had been tortured long enough. Let him do some of the work. "Make love to me, Severus. Touch me, make me come. Give me that passion and fire in your eyes."

With a harsh growl, she was whipped around and planted firmly on the mattress, his tongue in her mouth, and cock pistoning between her legs. She gasped as his well-endowed cock came into contact with her g-spot with each thrust. Hermione rose to meet him, so her clit was graced with sublime friction. His power was overwhelming, the harsh, testosterone-driven part of him taking over and possessing her in the manner she craved.

"Fuck me," she whispered, moaning as his rhythm increased. At this rate, neither one of them was going to last much longer. She hoped he was good for one more round, because she was really horny. Friggin' herself two or three times a night still hadn't been enough to satisfy her lately. She had been loath to admit that what she needed was the real thing. Now that she had it, she had no intention of letting it go. She wanted it on a regular basis, and not just any cock, but this one in particular. Hermione was already devising how she was going to keep him in her bed. She needn't have worried.

That fierce burn of lust blazed down his chest while he suckled her breasts, struggling to maintain his thrusts in that position. At last, he lifted his head and grabbed onto the headboard, unable to contain the animal that was howling to be unleashed. The formidable Potions master, CEO of his own company, and reclusive, wealthy entrepreneur, finally let loose from behind his long-held façade, and roared into the slapping mess between their thighs.

Hermione's screams of completion were sweet music to his ears, his breath coming in ragged gasps, before finally uttering a final cry as he came deeply inside of her sopping cunt. Spasm after spasm wracked his body, a lust-induced Cruciatus that seemed to go on forever. Their whimpers died to sighs while body fluids mingled, and tongues reacquainted themselves in a leisurely manner.

Then they slept amidst the drying sweat and sex, his cock nestled in her mounded curls like a snake invading a bird's nest. Upon waking, they shared a silent shower, unspoken emotion and hope playing ping pong back and forth in glances and kisses.

Back on the bed, he mounted her from behind, this time taking care to go more slowly, feel her body under him, and enjoy the moment. The curve of her backside fit neatly beneath his hips, cradled against one another in rocking perfection. Her perfect breasts dangled over the bed, while he leaned forward to grasp them between thrusts.

The soft mewling cries drove him mad with desire. A calloused hand found the sweet nub of nerves between her legs, and he flicked a thumb and forefinger over it, rolling it between them experimentally. Like a racehorse from the gate, she was coming again, crying out his name as a symphony in time with his impassioned caresses.

This time, he didn't let her come down. He fucked her through her orgasm, letting her buck up against him while it continued on and on. Severus had only encountered it with one other woman, but he knew some women could be made to come continuously, and he had a hunch Hermione might be one of those rare gems. It was a very frank conversation with Lucius one night at a Death Eater revel, which taught him the art of seduction that made women talk, much better than pain or other forms of torture. In the end, women had been killed, of course, but at least he could put the talent to good use, instead of wasting his life regretting the past.

"_Accio _wand," he mouthed, covertly bringing it around to her clit and touching her there. "_Voluptas_."

"Severus! Oh, Gods, yes! Whatever you're doing, don't stop! Unghhh!"

Her wail of pleasure and tight heat milked him so pleasantly. He loved fitting right up against her succulent hole, balls slapping her labia with each stroke. Finally, he felt his own orgasm building. He continued to hold his wand to her clitoris while she writhed and gasped beneath him. A river of come was washing over his cock and down their legs, coating the backs of her thighs in a glistening shine.

"Severus, Oh my fucking Gods, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!"

"Hermione!" His third orgasm blasted out of him to join her own, and he was gripping her thighs with a bruising force neither of them noticed in the height of ecstasy. At last, they collapsed into a quivering heap, bathed in their own juices, but, best of all, no longer alone.

"Stay with me," she whispered dreamily.

"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. "Yes, stay. Hmmm." His eyes closed, one hand on her breast, the other clasped in one of hers.

"You're mine, now," she breathed, her eyes closing behind a gigantic yawn.

"Yes, my love," he agreed.

And they both knew it to be true, for they were one.


End file.
